


You were a risk

by EatingDirtForFunandProfit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Vicchan Lives, the self indulgent seungchu au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatingDirtForFunandProfit/pseuds/EatingDirtForFunandProfit
Summary: Seung Gil should never get drunk. Ever. Because the one time he did, it resulted in him moving to Detroit, being dragged into social media feuds, and enduring one of the most peppy, confusing, extroverted people he'd ever met, who was hell bound not on learning the quads he needed for his program, but on teaching Seung Gil to "have fun". Seung Gil did not need fun. Seung Gil needed a nap. And possibly some earplugs.





	1. And now I don't feel it at all

**Author's Note:**

> hello. I have no self control apparently. heres this.... au that makes no sense. I just... I got this idea in my head. and it possessed my hands. and made me type this. ANYWAYS this is basically an au where the gpf went v e r y differently. Yuuri and Viktor are on more of a level playing field, and theyll get a chapter here and there but the real drama is Phichit and Seung Gil trying to learn from each other without ripping their head off. 
> 
> In the first chapter Seung Gil is a little ooc, even if he is drunk, so I might need to go back and edit it, but for now its going up as is. I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are my own.   
> The teen rating is for language, I might bump it up if the swears start piling up, or if Chris gets too much... Chrisness, but I think we're good for now.
> 
> The real plot should kick off about chapter 3, the first 2 are just kind of setting the scene for whats about to go down. You'll notice this isn't exactly a swap au, since there are some major plot differences. I couldn't see these two fitting so neatly into the roles of Yuuri and Viktor, and more than anything I wanted some college shenanigans.   
> I will admit though, there's a few skating chapters that I've been putting a lot of thought into, so I'm pretty exited to write them! 
> 
> I'm no expert on skating, or college, or... anything, really,   
> but I am Gay and Doing my Best so I hope you'll forgive me.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title is from First Vision by Tyler Glenn (his whole album is amazing 10/10 would recommend) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F3D6MoB-HU  
> Work title is from the quote "You were a risk, a mystery, and the most certain thing I'd ever known" Attributed to Beau Taplin   
> (I know, I'm cheesy. I admit it. I wear every groan like a badge of honor. Cliches give me unspeakable power. I will conquer all.)
> 
> Enjoy! Or leave a comment about what I could do better! Again. I am a simple gay doing his best. I beg your forgiveness.

Seung Gil Lee did not drink, regularly. However, tonight was very irregular, and if he had champagne in his mouth people didn't expect him to respond to their pointless small talk. He was fully aware that was an excuse, people would bother him anyways. The real reason was the acidic feeling of dissatisfaction in his skin.   
He had failed his first gpf. It was not a disaster, exactly, but it was certainly not good enough for the Grand Prix Final, and he had landed himself in fifth.   
Despite the creeping dread that he had only made it this far because of some fluke, he pulled himself to the gala, since he promised his coach he would. She never said he had to mingle, so he wasn't. What he was, was drunk. 

He didn't know exactly what to expect from his drunk self, but he knew the symptoms. His balance was slightly off, swaying a little as he stood by the refreshments table. The room was weirdly warm, or maybe it was him. His train of thought was sluggish, and he couldn't keep track of his leaps from one thought to the next. The most obvious sign was the fact that half of a bottle of champagne was now in his stomach. That would be more than enough to impede his judgement.   
From a scientific perspective, he was aware that he was a lightweight by many standards, but he didn't mind. If he was going to get drunk, he might as well be efficient at it. 

A loud laugh rang out across the room, impossible to miss. The source was obviously the skater that had missed the bronze medal just barely, Phichit Chulanhont. Considering it was his first GPF, that was impressive. Watching him skate was more so.   
He smiled the whole time, like he really meant it. His jumps throughout the season had been inconsistent and he had few quads, but his presentation score made up for it. He added more jumps at each competition (though not quite as many as Seung Gil would have), clearly learning from his rink mate Yuuri Katsuki, who had surprisingly taken silver this year.   
A dark horse of the competition, he had pushed Christophe Giacometti into third with an intimidating amount of stamina on the ice and ridiculous presentation scores.   
Unsurprisingly, Viktor Nikiforov had taken gold yet again.   
Jean Jacques Leroy had folded under the pressure, and was the only reason Seung Gil wasn't in sixth.   
While numerically Phichit was only 1 place ahead, their actual scores differed by a wide margin. If he managed to swallow his pride for long enough, he could admit that he admired his ability to entertain an audience, despite his few quads.

He didn't plan on admitting that, however. He didn't plan on admitting anything. He wasn't known for his personality (grim), or his way with words (nonexistent). At events like these, his coach did most of the work for him, just like she did with his social media, and his costumes, and his music, and choreography and themes... he was grateful.   
It was better that all he had to do was skate. 

He had never liked people who told him to push his comfort zone. As an athlete, he pushed his physical limits constantly, and kept a strict diet and exercise regimen. As far as he was concerned, until those people did that, they should not be allowed to tell him what limits to push. 

Speaking of pushing limits, he was certainly drunk. He felt... floaty. Seung Gil had never used the word "floaty" in his life. He wasn't even sure it was a word... someone was talking. 

"-ey? Hey. Did you hear me?"  
He hadn't. "No." The talking person was the Thai skater. He looked like he was wearing makeup of some kind... was that eyeliner?   
Seung Gil stumbled a little, realizing he had leaned in too far to examine the fine black line on Chulanhonts eyelid.   
The other skater just laughed, catching him by his upper arms and steadying him back on his feet. 

"I came over to ask if you were drunk, but I guess that answers that question! How are you feeling?"   
He was still holding Seung Gil's biceps for some reason, steadying him like he was about to fall over. Which was probably fair, because he still might. 

"Is floaty a word? In the dictionary, I mean. That's where all the words are." 

Chulanhont laughed again, which was very unfair, because it made him distracting, like there was some kind of gravity to his smile that took all of your attention. He took good care of his teeth, probably- oh, he was talking again. 

One of Chulanhonts hands left his arm to dig a phone of some kind out of his pocket, and Seung Gil looked at where it had been idly. He didn't like physical contact usually, it always meant someone wanted something from him and he was never good at figuring out what.   
This wasn't bad though. He was drunk.   
And Phichit had nice hands. 

Not like, the hands themselves, he had no opinions on hands, but the motivation behind them, the... emotion, or something... He had nice hands. Like. His hands were being nice. Because they helped him not fall on his ass. 

Chulanhonts phone was in his face. 

"There you go! Merriam-Webster. Floaty. It's a word! Right from the place words are." 

Seung Gil squinted at the screen, reading the description. Then he leaned back, humming, and looked at his empty glass. 

"I suppose I feel floaty then." 

Phichit was laughing. He did that a lot, Seung Gil noted. It didn't seem like a mean kind of laughing. It was... it was like his hands. It was nice. 

Something clicked in Seung Gil's brain, and he scowled.   
"You could have... why didn't you medal? You do the thing where- what..."   
He heard Phichit make some kind of gasp noise, but he couldn't see his facial expression to determine what it meant, because Seung Gil now had his face mushed into Chulanhonts shoulder. His cologne smelled like something, but he couldn't remember what it was... some kind of wood? Sand... sand wood?   
Wait, he had been saying something. 

"You're all... good at making people feel things. Like you feel all these feelings and then people watch you and they feel the... what you're feeling."  
Seung Gil pulled back from muttering into Phichits shoulder, to look him straight in the eye.   
"Your jumps are terrible." 

That may have sounded bad. 

"You land them, but you don't land the right ones. You should be more... what's the- ambitious! Be more ambitious." 

Phichit looked like he was about to say something, brows furrowed. Seung Gil leaned on his shoulder again, most of his weight being held up by the other skater. 

"I bet if you skated Almavivo, you'd do it right." 

He didn't realize he was sad till he heard his voice. It sounded very sad. Phichit wrapped one arm around his back, making quiet shushing noises, like he was trying to put a baby to sleep. 

"You should skate the program I've been choreographing for next season. You should skate everything... I think you could. You could... you could skate anything, probably. Just need more jumps, thas all..." 

He was aware, hazily, of his coach pulling at his arm to take him back to his room. He had never seen he Thai skater look so thunderstruck. 

He usually rationed smiles for special occasions, such as never, but one fought its way onto his face anyways.   
"I wanna see you with a gold medal. I'd- I dunno. I'd quit skating to see it- like if I could- if I could give you my jumps- I'd do it. To see you skate something worth gold. S'a good color on you."   
After that, he let his spluttering coach pull him to the elevator and back to the room. Phichit was left standing in the ballroom, glass in hand, still speechless. He looked like a statue. A cute statue. With nice hands.


	2. Finally I feel ten feet tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit fell asleep, feeling good about the whole situation. Though that didn't say much, because Phichit had 'a good feeling' about almost every idea he'd ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...when i said I'm going to butcher a bunch of languages because I love linguistics but also I suck at linguistics... what I meant was... I'm so sorry. If you're a native speaker of any languages I ruin in this chapter, I owe you a personal apology. Most of it is google translated, but a few phrases I got by digging around language learning sites, which may or may not be 100% correct or in the right dialect or used properly... because I really like languages but BOY. You miss a lot of subtext to a phrase when you don't speak the language. I love learning little bits of languages and can go down a rabbit hole real quick, honestly. (You may notice I like to shove my personal interests into fics. That's because if I do them in real life people have like. expectations. So.)  
>  Anyways, hopefully this clears a few things up about the time line! I have a huge amount of fun writing Phichit, I think I made him progressively drunker as the chapter went on though... if i remember to edit this I'll go back and add lines to clarify. I am VERY tired so I'll probably forget I posted this chapter at all. -_-   
> Chapters are pretty short so far because I'm terrible at not writing in short bursts, so I'll try to keep getting them out regularly! Thank you for all the wonderful comments so far, I hope you enjoy!\  
> (its the middle of the night NO SECOND EDIT WE DIE LIKE MEN)  
> (Translations at the end!)

Phichit Chulanhont was not, in fact, a statue. He proved that by saying "Holy shit." under his breath, chugging his glass of champagne, and saying "Holy SHIT." again, slightly louder. 

He swung his head around, scanning the crowd for Yuuri. Phichit wasn't good with secrets. As soon as something big happened, he needed to tell someone asap or he might actually explode. Well, ok, not ACTUALLY explode, but it felt like he would.  
It was unfortunate timing, of course, because Yuuri was talking (and that was amazing in and of itself, because Yuuri hated these things) to Viktor Nikiforov. Like, actually talking. To the guy that had lived as a poster on their dorm room wall (ok, multiple walls) for forever. And he wasn't bursting into flames, or screaming, or anything Phichit thought he might do. They were just... talking. Like humans. 

Viktor looked totally interested in what Yuuri had to say, nodding and making serious eye contact. Yuuri looked flustered, because of course he did, but he looked like he was doing pretty well with the, yknow, talking like a human thing.  
He hated to butt in, but he was a little drunk and pigs could probably fly now because WHAT JUST HAPPENED.  
He latched onto Yuuris shoulder, batting at his arm frantically. "Yuuri. YuuriIneedtotalktoyou. Yuuri. Yuur-"  
Yuuri calmly removed Phichits flailing hand and turned to look at him, trying to hide a smile. 

"Calm down, you look ridiculous! Stop trying to whisper, you're not quiet at all, oh my god." 

Viktor was leaning around to stare at him curiously, and Giacometti (Bronze medalist. He's getting his ass kicked at worlds though, just you watch!) was slowly drifting his way as well.  
"Yuuri we need to leave right now there is a drunk attractive Korean man who is trying to KILL ME we need to go now immediately-"  
"Someone's trying to kill him?" 

Viktor looked actually concerned, bless his vodka pickled heart.  
Yuuri sighed. "No, he's just being dramatic." Giacometti reached their table, and slipped into the conversation like he'd always been there. 

"I saw him talking to Seung Gil earlier. I don't know what it was about, but they got awful touchy-"  
Yuuri gave him a very serious look.  
"I didn't do anything this time! I swear! He started it! He was being all weird, and I think he was trying to compliment me? But then he started talking about jumps, and then he got all sad, and he kept telling me he wanted to see me win a gold medal and... I mean. What the fuck, right?" 

Yuuri tutted. "Language."  
Phichit blew a raspberry at him before continuing. 

"Seriously though, I've been trying to talk to him for ages, guys, ages! And all of a sudden he's all cuddly and... whatever that was. My heart can't take it!"  
Yuuri was trying to keep them both from falling over, but Viktor and Giacometti were exchanging looks.  
Chris leaned down on the table with his elbows, and raised a sly eyebrow. 

"I take it you don't really mind his attention, hm?" 

Ok, he definitely made that sound a lot dirtier than necessary.  
Yuuri looked like a tomato. Viktor looked nonplussed. He'd probably heard worse, being around Chris so much. 

"Well, I mean, no, cause he's cute and I've been trying to get him to laugh at every single competition we have together, but I didn't think it would happen like this! He didn't even look happy, you know? His smile was all... empty. Ugh, it just broke my heart!" Chris sighed.  
"Ah. Young love."  
"Don't encourage him! He gets way too wrapped up in crushes when he's like this." 

Phichit elbowed Yuuri in the ribs, making side eyes at the gold medalist.  
"You're one to talk."  
He had the good graces to say it in Thai, at least.  
Yuuri practically squeaked, covering his face. Yeah, sure, Phichit was the dramatic one. Viktor obviously had no clue what he said, giving them both puzzled looks before moving back to the conversation.  
"Why don't you just ask him tomorrow, before his flight leaves?"  
"Vitya, we have no idea what plane he's on." Chris purred.  
"You really need to leave love advice to the masters."  
Chris wrapped an arm around Viktors smoothly, like it was meant to be there.  
Phichit could feel Yuuri grumbling silently low in his throat, and grinned. 

"ヤキモチを焼きすぎちゃだめ, Yuuri." He said, voice a little sing song.  
Yuuri shot him a look.  
"他人の不幸は蜜の味, Phichit." 

Chris looked at the two with a twinkle in his eye. 

"What are you two chatting about over there now? Us? Two can play at that game. Lorsque vous avez dit que le médaillé d'argent était mignon, je ne pensais pas que vous vouliez dire que l'homme était beau."  
Viktor just turned to him, looking unimpressed.  
"Nous ne devrions pas être grossier. Et si on laisse une mauvaise impression?"  
Chris faked a scandalized look. 

"Je ne pense pas que vous devez vous soucier des impressions, regardez-le! Il baiserait le sol sous vos pieds si vous lui demandiez." 

Viktor huffed. Was that... was he blushing?  
"Вот почему я не спрашиваю. Я хочу, чтобы он понравился мне. Я не хочу, чтобы он поклонялся мне." 

Apparently it was time for Russian now. Viktor took a sizable sip of his drink while Chris whined on his arm next to him.  
"No fair, you know I never got the hang of Russian! Such a tease, Vitya." 

Phichit could practically sense Yuuris face falling at Chrises flirty tone, and decided it was time for a 'my best friend is more talented than your weird French talking sexy friend' moment. You never know when you might get a chance to do those. 

"Oh yeah? Yuuris been getting great at Thai though! You should hear him! Do it, Yuuri! Do the thing!"  
"....น่าอายจัง"  
Phichit grinned at him, leaning in. "Yeaaaaah? Then what do you say to me?" 

"ฉันไม่อยากเจอคุณอีกฉันเกลียดคุณตอนนี้."  
Yuuri looked totally deadpan, and Phichit pretended to be injured.  
Chris golf clapped. 

"Wow, Yuuri! That was quite a bit of Thai! I don't know what it meant, but I've got to say, you're a man of many talents."  
Phichit pouted, slouching over the table instead of where he had been, draped over Yuuri.  
"Yeah, but he never used all the nice swears I taught him! He's always too nice, Chris, it isn't fair!"  
Chris nodded, leaning more over the table so their elbows bumped. 

"I know what you mean. French is the language of love, but Viktor never lets me teach him how to dirty talk properly! Although his ex told me all about what he'd say in Russian and-" 

"Ok, time for Chris to leave now, bye Chris! Enjoy your bronze medal, have a nice night!" 

Chris was practically getting shoved out the door, spouting more French that was presumably the dirty talk he'd been trying to teach Viktor, by how red his face was when he got back to the table. 

Phichit gave him a sly grin.  
"Soooooo. Russian dirty talk, huh?" 

Yuuri sighed. "Do I have to drag you out of the room too or should I get Ciao Ciao to do it?" Phichit stumbled away from the table, putting his hands up in surrender. "Alright! I'm going, I'm going! I've got legs!" 

He'd leave them to their romantic night, and ask Yuuri what Russian dirty talk sounded like in the morning.  
...he was forgetting something, he realized, just as his head hit the pillow. Something he had to text Yuuri about... Right! The pretty Korean skater that wanted him to win gold. He'd ask about him in the morning.

...Almavivo wasn't that bad of a program, though he wouldn't be caught dead with those sleeves... he could almost see himself skating it- the whirls and turns of the foot work danced behind his eyelids as he drifted off. 

He couldn't possibly do it as much justice as Seung Gil thought he could. Could he? ...He could try.  
He just needed to be a little more ambitious, right? 

Phichit fell asleep with a smile on his face.  
He could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translators notes for below:  
> Japanese:  
>  -"try not to burn the ricecakes too much" basically means don't get too jealous  
> -"The suffering of others is the taste of honey" a saying similar to schadenfreude (enjoying the misery of others) (I just wanted them to shoot weird sayings at each other in a teasing way and I found these, I hope it makes sense!)  
> French:  
> -when you said the silver medalist was cute, I did not think you meant the man was handsome.   
> -we should not be rude. What if we leave a bad impression?  
> -I don't think you have to worry about impressions, look at him! He would kiss the ground beneath your feet if you asked him.  
> Russian:  
> -That's why I'm not asking. I want him to like me. I don't want him to worship me.   
> Thai:  
> -I'm/that made me shy/embarrassed (This ones a little complicated... there's no direct translation for embarrassed in Thai, the closest basically means shy. This is (supposedly) a sort of cute saying to admit that something someone did made you feel shy.)  
> -I don't want to see you again I hate you now. (this is just google translated and probably way too formal. I did have a few interesting swears I was tempted to use, but Thai is a very complicated language and I wasn't confident that I wouldn't murder it even more by using them.)  
>  All respect to anyone that speaks Thai, or anyone who speaks more than one language in general. Unfortunately I'm a super visual learner and have a hard time with languages, or at least the way languages are usually taught. I've been studying sign language since its more my learning style, but i'm not quite fluent in that either... major props to polyglots. You amaze me.
> 
> Preview for next chapter: Emojis, Phichit falling over a lot, strategic phone theft, and Yuuri is totally hopeless. Because everyone in this fic... is a mess. Write what you know, kids.


	3. Something's in the distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit had been sneaking to the rink outside of practice to figure out what, exactly made Seung Gil think he would have won gold by skating it. So far he hadn't found anything except frustration and new bruises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! sorry its been so long... I'm a big mess, yall. Anyways, heres some more goofy fluff. Its very cheesy. And possibly terrible. So. Totally in character for me.  
> I do not have a beta, and I edited this probably less than I should have, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!  
> anyways have some Yuuri and Phichit being goofs because I love my detroit bois with all my heart and cannot stop writing them. I'm gonna go curl up in the fetal position and wait for the aliens to abduct me, probably. Peace!  
> (Chapter title from First Vision by Tyler Glen, same as the last two!)

No. No he could not. He could not do this. 

‘This’ was Seung Gil’s short program, Almavivo. Phichit had been sneaking to the rink outside of practice to figure out what, exactly made Seung Gil think he would have won gold by skating it. So far he hadn't found anything except frustration and new bruises.

After not being able to find the Korean skater at the hotel, Phichit had tried to find him on social media once they got back to Detroit.

Phichit was good at many things, but he had been described as ‘a menace’ for only one. If Seung Gil could be found online, Phichit would find him.  
But after a solid 3 days glued to his phone, he had to admit defeat.

 

“He’s like a ghost, Yuuri!” he said, sprawling across his dorm bed dramatically. 

“Anything I do find is run by his coach! He’s gotta be a robot or something.”  
He faked a cartoony robotic voice. 

“Eat. Sleep. Skate. Calculate TES. Make Phichit lose his marbles and do weird voices.”  
After one last check, he tossed his phone gently to the carpet in despair.  
“Its not faaaaaair, Yuuri! Help meeeeeeeee!” 

Yuuri laughed silently from the desk on his side of the room, where he sat, doing school work, like a reasonable person or something.  
“Oh c’mon, gimme something!”  
Yuuri just shrugged.  
“I don't know why you're asking me for help. I'm hopeless at people things!”  
“Helpless my devastatingly perfect ass, Katsuki!-”  
“Ew, Phichit.”  
“Don't interrupt me about my own ass- Gah! Stop trying to distract me. You've got Viktor Nikiforov wrapped around your finger from another continent!”  
“Oh, this again…” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

Phichit spluttered.  
“What do you mean, this again? He sends you pictures! Of his dog! On command! He's head over stupid shiny gold heels, dude.” 

Yuuri looked down at his desk. “He doesn't do it on command…” he mumbled. Phichit snorted.  
“Bull. Gimme your phone.”  
“What? No!”  
“Too late!” 

Phichit scooped Yuuri's phone off the shelf by the door where he always left it. Being such a creature of habit would be his downfall one of these days… Phichit shrugged, thumbing in Yuuri's phone passcode. (Of course he knew Yuuri's passcode. It was Victor's birthday. Duh.)  
The lock screen was a picture of him and his dog back in Japan, as always, but his home screen was new. It had always been a picture of Viktor, updating whenever he found a new one he liked, but this time… well. 

This time Yuuri was in the picture too. 

Phichit shrieked.  
“I can't believe you took selfies without me, Yuuri! God, it's like I don't even know you.”  
Yuuri just deflated further on top of his desk, textbook abandoned (finally).  
“He took it when I wasn't looking. Because he's an incorrigible phone thief. Like you.”  
Phichit tutted at him, taking a selfie with Yuuri's limp form in the background and posting it to instagram. 

(Y_Katsuki: look who just got hacked!!! @phichit-chu #bestfriend #forgivemepls #takeover #selfiegoals) 

“Now now, I'm just borrowing it. ...What was I doing? Right! Texts!”  
He thumbed over to Yuuris texts, ignoring the quiet “Nooooooooooo” sound from across the room. If Yuuri was actually mad, he'd know. He was the number one Yuuri expert in the world, after all! Except maybe Mari. She might tie with him, but just because of seniority. Where was it… here!

“He put his number as ‘Vitya❤️⛸’? Seriously? He's hitting on you soooo hard, oh my god.”  
Yuuri turned his head limply to face him.

“I thought it just meant he loved ice skating…” he said meekly.  
“Oh you sweet baby… I'm still not giving your phone back.”  
Yuuri just sighed, apparently content with his new existence as a desk puddle. Phichit at the very least didn't look at the previous texts (He wasn't that bad! Ok. He was pretty bad. But still!) as he typed out a message to Viktor.  
Yuuri heard the ding, and dread filled his voice. “Oh my god what did you do.”  
Phichit skipped out of range, just in case. Yuuri liked throwing things when he got mad.  
“Just testing a little theory! Won't take long!”  
“Phichit. What did you send I swear to god if you-”  
“OH! Shhh he's typing!”  
“... I'm going to kill you in your sleep.”  
“It wasn't that bad, I promise! I didn't even ask for nudes-”  
“Phichit. Seriously.”

Oooh, now he was mad. Phichit handed the phone back and hovered over his shoulder so they could both see the response. 

You: hey can i see a pic of yr dog real quick it's fr science

(“I don't type like that!” Yuuri hissed at him. Phichit shrugged. “I do.”)

Vitya❤️⛸: sure!!! ;>

Attached was not just a picture of his dog, but a picture of Viktor and his dog, squished merrily into the frame for a selfie. Viktor had a goofy heart shaped smile, and his hair was a mess. Clearly he was at home, on a couch or something when the photo was taken. It wasn't a great photo, you could see a tiny sliver of his thumb on the camera, so it was obviously taken just then.

Phichit grinned.  
Not only was the guy sending dog photos on command, he was taking dog photos on command. And including his face. His messy, imperfect, after practice face. 

It was so domestic he could cry. 

Yuuri, however was just staring at the phone in his hands in disbelief. 

“Do you think… I could put this on the wall. Somehow.” 

His voice was adorably awestruck. The phone pinged again, and he nearly dropped it like it had burned him. 

Vitya❤️⛸: by the way i know that was your roommate. i saw the instagram post, what a sneak!! hope you get your phone back soon~ 

Vitya❤️⛸: really tho if you ever want photos of makachin im always happy to send them!! :>

Vitya❤️⛸: or photos of russia!! have you ever been? probably, right? haha stupid question

Vitya❤️⛸: most of my camera roll is blurry photos of strangers dogs from car windows anyway so i don't really think im a very good photographer :,<

Vitya❤️⛸ is typing...

“Oh my god Yuuri text him back put him out of his misery.”  
Yuuri almost dropped his phone again. Phichit was definitely investing in a case with a wrist strap for him if this kept up. 

He was typing furiously away now, curled over his phone so Phichit couldn't see.  
He could guess, though. Something with a lot of apologies, self deprecation, probably perfectly spelled and all.  
He flopped back down on his bed with a sigh. At least Viktor used emojis. Dumb ones, but he used them. 

“Anyway. Point proven. He's even got instagram notifications on, and you like, never post, so. Hit me. Gimme that sweet Katsuki magic so I can talk to cute boys like you do.”  
Yuuri snorted.  
“If I do it will you go be weird and gross somewhere else?”  
“Wow, love you too, roomie! But yes. I will.” 

“Fine.” Said Yuuri, still glued to his phone. 

“Rule 17 of the sad sack club-” “it's not a club if it's only one person, Yuuri! I keep telling you!”  
“Do you want my advice or not? I can keep my sweet sweet sad sack secrets all to myself if I wanted.”  
Phichit flopped to the floor dramatically. 

“Oh, go on, oh great lord of pity parties and marathoning The Last Airbender from under a mountain of pillows, tell me your ways, founder and president of a club that consists of one person.”  
“Ugh. You're too much. Anyways, rule 17 states that if you can't get your feelings across in words, just skate them.”  
Phichit looked at his friend in surprise.

“That's it? Just… skate your feelings?” 

Yuuri shrugged. “I never said it would be good advice. Now shush. I'm having a battle with autocorrect.” 

Phichit stared at the ceiling for a while in uncharacteristic silence. Skate his feelings… it could work. He'd always known his strength was as an expressive skater. And he already had the routine handed to him on a silver platter… he just needed to reach out and take it.  
‘Be more ambitious.’  
That's what he'd said, right? He just needed to chance it…  
Phichit bolted off the bed without a word and started packing his duffel bag, throwing in a notebook and pencil and shoving his phone in his pocket. Yuuri finally looked up from his phone from the commotion. 

“Woah, where are you going?”  
“Taking your advice, chief!” 

He gave his friend a jaunty salute and a wink before heading out the door.  
“I'm skating my feelings!” 

 

\----———

Anyways, skating your feelings was harder than he thought. He didn't feel whatever you were supposed to feel during Almavivo. He felt like he'd been doing this exhaustingly fast step sequence for a million years. He felt his giant hip bruise because seriously, who the hell starts with a quad flip? He couldn't even do a quad flip. Even in practice, he only had a 25% chance of landing it. Stupid Seung Gil and his stupid technical score… And his stupid hair. And face. Ugh. Ugh! 

He stepped off the ice and slipped on his skate guards, stomping over to the bleachers and draping his jacket over his shoulders. After a long drink from his water bottle, he flopped down on the bench, and pulled Seung Gil’s performance up on his phone for what felt like the 8 millionth time. 

There was something… off about it. Programs had stories, themes, feelings, memories, reasons for being. Almavivo had those, but Seung Gil… didn’t. The way he skated… it was just a vehicle for the jumps. It was like the spirit of the choreography was missing. All this time, Phichit had been trying to skate exactly like him.  
Seung Gil was a good skater, he had no doubts about that. Probably even better than him. And he’d been doing this routine all season, it made sense to try and replicate that. But maybe that’s why it wasn't working! Seung Gil wanted him to skate it. Not to pretend to be someone else. If he wanted it to look right, all he had to do was skate like himself.

A new rush of energy hit him like wind on a highway, and he scrambled to mark down changes to the choreography. Phichit didn’t have all those jumps on his roster. There was no use pretending he did. He had always been more focused on presentation, but Seung Gil was obsessed with his technical score, no wonder the routine fell flat when Phichit tried it. 

He ran it through in his head until he felt confident enough to skate it, then pushed himself up off the bleachers. After a moment's thought, he grabbed his phone. He’d never felt good enough to post videos of the routine, he wanted it to be right before Seung Gil saw it. But this… he had a good feeling about. If it turned out right…  
He took a deep breath, propped his phone up on the boards, and pressed the record button.  
'Here goes… something. I guess…' He thought, flashing the camera a winning smile and a peace sign before gliding out to center ice.  
'I just have to skate like myself. I can do that!'  
In his head, the music started, and Phichit began to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why It keeps posting the same end notes. Technology is a mystery. Anyways, Preview for the next chapter: Seung Gil makes a Probably Terrible decision.


	4. I see it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe flying to Detroit was a bad idea. Maybe a lot of things were bad ideas. At this point, he was resigned to bad ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK THIS ONE WAS A MESS AND IM SO SORRY IF YOU GOT LIKE FIVE NOTIFICATIONS THAT I POSTED A CHAPTER!! Let's just say that mobile ANYTHING is awful and ao3 really hates emojis. That's right. This whole mess was about emojis. The things I do for you, Phichit... 
> 
> (Please work please work pleASE)  
> IT DIDNT WORK AND I HATE THIS H A N G O N
> 
> Update: now fixed! Unfortunately emojiless, however. :< sorry Phichit. I did my best.
> 
> Another update because I hate e v e r y t h I n g: caught a typo. Seung Gil is no longer made of lead. who decided to make english like this because I want to punch them right in the kneecap with the edge of a kitchen table
> 
> HOPEFULLY LAST EDIT:  
> Special thanks to tuples for correcting my spelling on Ciao Ciao and Leo's names in the comments! I can't spell to save my life you are such an angel <3

Seung Gil was not a very religious person, usually describing himself as more agnostic than anything. Even so, He shot a glance at the airport ceiling as he shuffled closer to the boarding gate.  
If there is a higher power…  
he thought to himself.  
Please shoot me down now if this is a bad idea.  
...Nothing happened, but it didn't really make him feel better. He sighed internally and handed his passport and boarding ticket to the tired looking stewardess. 

He knew it was impulsive. Impulsive, and stupid, and ill advised, and plenty of other things that generally were out of character for him. He’d done his best to justify playing it safe. It was the off season for him now, so practicing wasn't an excuse. His coach was aware, and supported, even encouraged the decision. Coach Cialdini and the detroit skating club were prepared to host him, should all go well. They even paid for his hotel. 

The decision was then entirely up to what Seung Gil himself wanted, which was… unfortunate. It was difficult for him to make choices based on just gut feeling. There was no way to tell if something like this would work out long term.  
He hated guess work. It was why he skated. It took something artistic and soulful, and quantified it, gave it numbers and limits based on human ability, a jump either made the rotation count or it didn't. You landed a jump, or you touched down. If you didn't land it, there was a reason, and you could change, and try again. 

But flying halfway across the world to be humiliated by a better skater in hopes of learning something was not something you could just… redo. Perhaps actually flying out was a little dramatic, but he had an image to uphold. Chulanont was the only significant party in the equation who was unaware he was coming. It was fair since he challenged Seung Gil in the first place by skating his routine- alright, perhaps challenge was the wrong word. After all, the commentary on the video had been nothing but complimentary. 

\-------------

Chu-tube:  
[Trying out other routines! Almavivo]  
today ive got something really cool for you guys!! someone very special challenged me to skate Seung Gil Lee’s Almavivo skate, and let me tell you, it was such a learning experience! He’s an awesome skater, check out his silver medal performance of it at skate canada! [link] that quad flip gets me everytime like h o w????  
anyways, lemme know how i did in the comments below!! I haven't had very long to practice it, but im learning so much from it already and I'd be happy to hear critiques (or compliments. ;) yknow.)  
Lov chu~

 

Despite the humility, the video displayed formidable skill in both step sequences and timing, which stung a little, considering they had never been Seung Gils strong points.  
Phichit skated it like it was a completely different routine. A completely different, undeniably improved routine.  
The jump composition had been changed drastically, as there was no use risking bigger jumps when practicing a routine you wouldn't even be using. But even with the lack of technical elements, there was something… intimidating about the skate that made Seung Gil’s hair stand on end.  
It did not pose itself as a challenge, never said it outright, but it felt like one. Which was strange. He wasn't used to describing skating in terms of what he felt at all. 

All his life, people had talked about skating like it was a language. He agreed, to a point.

He enjoyed watching skating, always had, seeing it as the art of pushing the human limit beyond what was possible but maintaining a sense of effortlessness the whole way.  
The first thing he saw was the physics of it. The impact of a jump hitting the ankle, then the knee. The way one spin transitioned to the next. It was like watching theories in motion, a microcosm of momentum and engineering and human biology applied to art. 

The more he skated, the more he studied skating, the more he appreciated the technical details. He watched the number of rotations, he watched the shift of balance from one edge to another, he memorized jumps till he could identify them faster than the announcers.  
He understood every muscle, every shift in momentum, every joint, every force, every mark in the ice.  
And yet, people had the gall to say skating was a language when they did not speak it.  
They talked about a routine like it was a novel, or a love letter, not a series of sharp, honed movements and the careful art of turning natural forces into tools in an effort to look as if it took no effort at all.  
Yes, he understood the use of presentation scores.Time and energy went into making something beautiful, it was only right that that was reflected in the score. But what was the use in reading into it like some poem or folktale? 

Watching Phichit skate Almavivo by no means changed his mind on that front. But the more he watched, the more his attention slipped from watching his skates and counting rotations.  
He replayed the video time and time again, but as his tired eyes began to ache he found the less focused he was, the more he saw.  
There was something haughty about the beginning of the routine, almost dangerous… threatening. As the music picked up, Chulanont fell back to his more usual style, energetic and smiley, but there was still an edge there.  
Like he was skating to prove something.  
He really threw himself into the routine, not one second of it felt flat or unengaging. There was character, life to the skate that Seung Gil had never seen when he watched himself skate the program.  
The laws of physics were not just tools to him, they were paint brushes. 

Seung Gil cursed whoever challenged Phichit to skate his program. There would always be something missing when he practiced it now, some unignorable aspect that, no matter how cleanly he landed his jumps, would never feel complete.  
Going into a competition without full confidence in his program spelled disaster, and so he made the terrible decision to put himself at the other skaters mercy, and ask to study with him in an effort to move past whatever road block he had inadvertently created. 

\----------

He spent most of the flight to Detroit trying to swallow his pride.  
Unsuccessfully.

He respected Chulanont’s skills as a skater. He had no reason to personally like or dislike him. Repeating those facts in his head did nothing to convince his irrational side to calm down and let him sleep. 

This was the best thing he could do for his career. Even if it felt like a terrible idea. 

\---------

Running on bad airport coffee and about half an hour of sleep, he dragged himself off the plane and stared down the baggage claim chute, daring it to drop his suitcase roughly. 

It did, of course, with a loud self satisfied clunk. 

He sighed. Hopefully his skates were alright.  
He looked around, realizing he hadn't actually thought this part of his journey out.  
The skating club never clearly stated where to go when he got off the plane, but he at the very least knew where his hotel was. He'd check in there, and either fall asleep immediately or find better coffee. 

Decision made, he strode towards the airport exit. Before the automatic doors even opened, there was a handmade cardboard sign in his face. 

His body was too tired to register this as surprising, however, and he barely blinked.  
The sign was liberally decorated with glitter glue and other things you would find in a kindergarten class or the ass end of a craft store. It took him a moment to read the writing. It had seemingly been picked up before the glue had a chance to dry properly, causing the multicolored letters to run.  
He squinted at it. 

“IT SAYS WELCOME TO DETROIT!” Boomed an excited voice way too close to his ear. 

“I got that part.” He said dryly.  
“I can't read the name on this, but I doubt I'm who you're looking...for…”  
He trailed off, eyes finally panning up to the person holding the sign. 

Oh.  
The source of all his earthly suffering.  
Great. 

Phichit grinned at him, unfazed. “Pretty sure you are! Unless you're not Seung Gil. The Korean skater. And since you're wearing his official jacket, it would be pretty weird if you weren't him.”  
He looked down at himself. Right. He forgot he put that on. It was practically habit at this point to wear it while traveling.  
“Anyways, sorry the sign got smudged! Leo tried to pick it up before it was ready because he's an INCOMPETENT SPACY DAYDREAMER!” 

The last part was yelled in the direction of a man standing nearby, well within normal hearing range.  
“AM NOT!” He yelled back, at equal volume. 

Then he turned to Seung Gil, offering his hand and a warm smile that crinkled his eyes.  
“Hey, I'm Leo de la Iglesia, I think we met once in juniors? It was a while ago, so I don't blame you for not remembering. Happy to have you joining us!”

Seung Gil just shook his hand and nodded blankly, trying to process what was happening.  
The sun was bright in the sky, and he knew it must be about 3:00 pm in Detroit now, but his body was 13 hours ahead and he could not deal with so many… things… happening.  
He let himself be led (dragged) by the elbow to a waiting car. Another man climbed out of the passengers side and approached him.  
Some part of his brain recognized him vaguely as Yuuri Katsuki, the GPF silver medalist. Right. He trained in Detroit, too. 

Katsuki looked different off ice, smiling timidly at him as he spoke.  
“It's good to see you again, Seung Gil. I'm glad you made it safely- um, y-you must be tired, let me take your bags.”  
Seung Gil handed them off with a quick ‘thanks’, ignoring Phichits protests for a ‘proper introduction’. They already knew each other's names, what was the point?

Leo slid into the driver's seat, and Phichit crowded Seung Gil into the back with him. Katsuki finished securing the bags, then settled into the front seat. The car rumbled to life beneath them. 

“Where to, boss?” “WELL-” “Not you, Phichit.”  
It took Seung Gil a second to realize they wanted him to answer.

“Uh. I was planning to take a taxi to my hotel and check in, then contact Cialdini abo-” 

“OK, first of all, literally no one calls him that. It's Celestino or Ciao Ciao, and second of all, no way! We’ve got so much to introduce you to and-”

“Phichit.” 

Katsuki’s voice could probably stop avalanches if it could get Chulanont to stop talking. 

“Not everyone is magically immune to jet lag like you are, and he's been on a plane for the better part of a day. Checking in at his hotel makes perfect sense, even if just to drop off his bags before heading out again.” 

Phichit stuck his tongue out at the back of Yuuri’s seat.  
Leo pulled up directions on his phone, and they were off. Phichit continued to make extatic small talk, but after about five minutes, Seung Gil was out cold, the steady hum of the car's engine lulling him to sleep. 

\-----------

He woke to the sound of a camera shutter, and a bright light. “Oops.” A voice whispered, then broke down into giggles. His eyes snapped open. 

“If you post that to one of your photo sites I'll break your fingers.”  
His voice was still rough and slurred from sleep, but the threat seemed to get across.  
“...Right. Wouldn't dream of it.”  
Phichit pocketed his phone and offered him a hand. 

“Anyway, we’re here! Don't worry about the bags. Leo and Yuuri got em.”  
He took the hand blearily, suppressing the hysterical comparison of a Disney princess being helped from her carriage.  
Instead of letting go, Phichit pulled him into the lobby of the hotel. It would have been embarrassing if he actually felt like he could create his own momentum. Phichit did something at the front desk that involved lots of eyelash fluttering and fake laughter, and then produced two key cards to Seung Gil's room.

“Did you just… check in for me?” Phichit shrugged. “A magician never reveals his secrets~”  
Seung Gil make a monosyllabic noise and took the cards.  
“Bags?”  
“Already up there, sunshine!”  
Seung Gil ignored the nickname in favor of stabbing the elevator button like it owed him money, and leaning on the nearest solid surface. 

“Woah, hey buddy!”

He had really been hoping it was a wall. Nope. Not with his luck. He leaned away, making a mental note to be mortified later.  
“Sorry.”  
An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back. “Don't worry about it, I got you.”  
Phichits voice sounded different, maybe a little more serious. It wasn't important at that moment, because the elevator door was opening and he was being led inside. 

Phichit pressed the floor button, reminding him of his room number as he did. As if he'd forget his own room number.  
He went back to having his eyes closed and leaning on things, and Phichit went back to trying to keep him upright.  
They must have given him decaf at the airport. It was that, or jet lag was hitting him harder than normal. Stress and sleep deprivation had funny effects, so it wasn't completely off the table. The elevator began to move, and Phichit shifted his grip to keep him standing. It wasn't much, most of his weight was on the guardrail now, but he didn't take his arm away. Gravity pressing down on them made him distinctly aware of the fact he was taller than Phichit just slightly, shoulders knocking together.  
In person he was very different than the intimidating figure he cut in the video, even different from how he had been in the car earlier. He didn't try to fill the air with pointless small talk. He didn't even make eye contact, glancing off to the side with a far away look. 

Maybe that's just how they would be. 

Around their rink mates, he would put up an effort to befriend the quiet, new skater, and as soon as they were gone, he'd want nothing to do with him. It wouldn't be the first time.  
A small part of him would miss the warmth of being part of a group again, but ignoring it was nothing new to him.  
He put it out of his mind as the elevator jolted to a halt. 

 

To his surprise, Phichit followed him out into the hallway, heading in the direction of his room. The walked in relative silence. Relative in that now Phichit apparently had things to say again. Thankfully, he was saying them a little quieter.  
“I stayed here the first time I came to Detroit, before I moved to the dorms with Yuuri. It's not bad, but they do that thing where they try to sell you bottled water even though there's a tap like, right there and- oh, this one's you.”  
Seung Gil patted his pockets for the card, frowning. 

“Left jacket pocket. I saw you put them there.” 

He managed to shoot Phichit a questioning look. 

“I… Yuuri is kinda a messy traveler so I just pick up a few habits here and there. It's like herding an apologetic, anxious cat.”  
Seung Gil huffed in amusement, and unlocked the door. “I should unpack.” 

Phichit blinked at him, rocking back on his heels.  
“Oh- right. I'll… let you get to it then.”  
He nodded, and started to close the door, but Phichit caught it before he could.

“Seung Gil. I…”  
He took a deep breath, and met his eyes with a blinding smile.  
“Thank you for coming. I'm - I'm glad you're here.” Seung Gil felt his eyes widen in surprise, and quickly schooled his face back to neutral.

“Mm. I’ll- uh. I'll see you at practice.”  
Phichit nodded, shoulders relaxing and smile growing even brighter. 

“Yeah! Yeah. I'll see you at practice.”  
“...I'm going to close the door now.”  
“Ok!”  
“...You need to move your foot.” Phichit turned beet red, quickly pulling his shoe from the door frame.  
“Oh! Oops! Sorry! I'mgoingnowokBYE!” 

Seung Gil huffed again, watching Phichit power down the hallway like his ass was on fire. 

\-----------

Shutting the door with a definitive click, he turned to face the dark hotel room. After finding the light switches, he pulled what he needed out of his bag and set several alarms for himself. He set out what he'd need for practice in the morning, and informed his coach that he'd arrived safely.  
Against his better judgement, he let himself fall into the soft covers after kicking off his shoes. Face pressed into the pillowcase, he went through the day's events in his head, counting the moments where he probably embarrassed himself in front of new rink mates.  
Not that he cared if they liked him. 

He just liked to establish himself with a certain distance, as it discouraged most people from attempting to distract him.  
Mulling over the day, he found many signs that this was, in fact, a terrible idea, but he didn't feel as though he regretted it.  
It was still too early to tell, after all. Phichit was… not what he had expected. The animosity he felt watching him skate nearly disappeared when they interacted, despite the headache he'd likely get from all the yelling. 

They hadn't talked about the arrangement at all, and he had no idea if Phichit even knew why he was here.  
Still, he was determined.  
Either Phichit could help him improve, or he could not. 

They would just have to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Phichits pov of some of these scenes, complete with internal and external screaming. And maybe I remember that I'm supposed to advance plot and actually do that
> 
> As usual, title from first vision by Tyler Glenn

**Author's Note:**

> Preview for next chapter: we get to see Phichits pov, we meet some medalists, and the author goes to jail for gratuitous use of google translate.
> 
>  
> 
> and yes. Floaty is in the dictionary. I checked.


End file.
